


Truth, In Memoriam

by Spicy_Gnome



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Other, post ME1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome
Summary: Wrex knows the truth. Others want it.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 15





	Truth, In Memoriam

Wrex read the message on his omnitool. Again. No routing number or location data. Just a message: _Meet me on Omega, at Afterlife, a week after you get this message. I’ll know when you open it. I need confirmation of something and I trust you to provide it. - JB_

He’d been mourning Shepard in typical krogan fashion: drinking heavily and fighting with anyone willing. By now he’d run out of opponents worthy of his time. Anyone else he’d slaughter because they were weak.

His red eyes scanned the words again. He knew only one person with those initials who’d be smart, courageous, and sneaky enough to directly message him for intel. Especially to meet on Omega where his contact wasn’t liked and barely, maybe, tolerated. If the male had quad enough to risk Omega and Aria’s den for intel, Wrex might just take him up on it.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wrex sauntered up to the bar in Afterlife. Omega hadn’t changed that he could see. Same dirt, same stench of poverty, despair and blood: old and new. The new armor Shepard had gotten him while hunting Saren had some new scrapes and dents courtesy of his recent fights but a krogan with newer armor meant a successful krogan and the old bounty hunter was well known on Omega. The locals found new places to be but the grey-hided business suited salarian next to him just slid over a bit. 

“Ryncol. Just bring the bottle,” Wrex told the turian bartender. “Bring two.”

“Trying to put me in the poor house, Wrex?” the salarian asked quietly. The male tossed back something purple from a shot glass but whatever scent it had was lost in the overall wash of odors. _At least it isn’t tupari. Even here you can smell that at a distance._

“Heh,” Wrex half growled, “you can afford it.” 

The salarian dropped a credit chit on the counter. “Business hasn’t been that good,” the salarian replied with a grimace. “I need you for a job.”

The red plated turian returned with the bottles and Wrex slid the chit over to him. Then he picked up a bottle, cracked it open and took a swig as the turian swiped the chit. He handed it back to Wrex who pocketed it then picked up his second bottle and started wandering off towards the lower levels of Afterlife a bottle in each hand.

“Let’s talk business.”

\-------------------------------- 

Wrex had found a dark comfortable corner not far from where Patriarch told stories. He was mostly through the first bottle and contemplating the second when the grey salarian slid into his booth, his cloaking device fizzling out. 

“Wrex,” the salarian greeted. Now in grey and black armor instead of the pale blue civilian business garb of before. The salarian was slightly disguised with yellow spots across his head rather than the darker grey stripes he usually wore. Wrex heard the subtle whine of a scan blocker. Likely to keep the conversation private. 

“So what does a Spectre need from the likes of me?” Wrex sneered. “Not like the Council isn’t dragging Shepard's name through a sewer.” 

“Some of us are more willing to believe our own eyes than the posturing of the Council. We’re on the front lines, Wrex. Always. We see things the Councillors never do. There have been more reports of Collectors in Terminus space in the last 3 years than the previous 50. There are things stirring in the Hegemony, power shifts that are unexpected, small colonies going silent.” The salarian's rapid-fire delivery hit the points like an SMG. 

“So what happened out there while you were with Shepard? We saw the images of Sovereign, how altered Saren was. If that ruthless male feared **anything** it was a loss of control. Yet from Shepard’s report he was a puppet by the end.”

The male's dark grey eyes roved the bar as he spoke, hands drumming, tap, tap, tap, on the table. 

“Who’s we?” Wrex asked, not really expecting an answer. But the Spectre’s nerves were beginning to get to him. And nerves were not something he’d ever seen from the salarian. They’d wound up crossing paths over the years. Never on the opposite side of weapons but the seedier side of the Terminus only had so many jobs that paid well. The Spectre had funded some of them and Wrex hadn’t minded killing on the salarians credits.

“Those who have access to Spectre reports...some of us were asked to review Saren’s after he was declared rogue. There were changes but only if you’d read his older work. Shifts in his thinking. His kill counts actually increased in the last 5 years. It is hard to describe but enough that those of us who worked on the report are taking second looks at our own observations and rumor tracking and its painting a disturbing picture.” The Spectre’s fingers drummed faster. 

“Huh.” Wrex finished off the first bottle in one long set of swallows and thought about it. He’d heard things too before he’d met Shepard and then there was that job Saren had hired him for that he’d bailed out of. It had saved his life and let him put bullets into Saren on Virmire and the Citadel even if the bastard turian had taken his own life at the end. 

Wrex rolled the second bottle of ryncol between his hands. “So you believe Shepard? About the Reapers and indoctrination?” 

“I’m willing to give her ninety percent veracity based on my study of Arterius. I’m hoping you can tell me enough to convince others that Shepard is completely right.” Bau looked into Wrex’s eyes, complete sincerity in his words. No shifty eye blinks or twitches and his hands had stilled on the table. 

Wrex nodded slowly. “I was on most of the missions where we ran into Saren. I’ll tell you what I know.” Wrex knew the pain of Shepard’s loss made his voice a bit raw but the ryncol took enough of the edge off that he didn’t care. He’d been damn proud to follow that female. She’d been as fearless as Shiagur and she’d befriended him without strings. He owed her memory the truth.

It was a hell of a thing that a salarian would trust a krogan to tell the truth.


End file.
